The Bubble in the Bones
by 2BBornot2BB
Summary: It's Christmas Eve eve, and Brennan and Booth find themselves unable to get back to Washington. Where they end up, neither of them ever thought likely. In canon, gentle teasing, mini case fic.
1. Chapter 1

A/N Set vaguely somewhere in Season Four/Five, this is a Secret Santa fic for casket4mytears. Hope this fulfills some of those wishes – I couldn't help myself and cannibalized a couple of scenarios your wanted.

It's Christmas Eve eve, and Brennan and Booth find themselves unable to get back to Washington. Where they end up, neither of them ever thought likely. In canon, gentle teasing, mini case fic.

A heartfelt 'thank you kindly ma'am' to my lovely Texas friend, FauxMaven, for beta duties.

_Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my soul, and I even lend that out on occasion, but only if you ask nice. Anything that even looks familiar in this story probably belongs to someone else (except the actual story - that's all mine, Mine, MINE [*maniacal laughter*]!)_

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Christmas Eve Eve

2:43pm

Booth anxiously watched the trail of tiny bubbles break on the surface of the water. He ignored the discomfort of the gunwale digging into his side as he leaned as far as he could over the side of the boat, scanning the deep blue water for any sign of his partner. Relief surged through him as he spotted her dark form rising to the surface, the oval of her upturned face coming rapidly into focus as she completed her ascent. Brennan surfaced with a foaming rush of water, agitated words already spilling from her lips.

"Booth. You were right—they're not ancient remains, not even close. I estimate they are of a 30-35 year old male, Hispanic, approximately 165 cm tall. There are stress fractures on both tibiae but I do not believe they would have contributed significantly to his death." Brennan paused to push the black hood of the wet suit she was wearing back from her forehead, her body bobbing lightly in the water as she clung to the side of the boat to catch her breath. Water streamed over her face and she took Booth's hand blindly as he stepped nearer to the stern platform to haul her on deck.

Once on board, she slumped for a moment on the deck, a little winded, before squinting up at her partner. "I won't be able to tell you much more until I've had a chance to examine the remains further. I want to have a closer look at the notches I noticed at the external surface of the cranial base. We need to—"

Booth was there before her, a pained expression already in place at what he knew would come next. So much for that last minute Christmas shopping he needed to do. "Lemme guess, get it all back to the lab?"

She nodded in reply, kneading her shoulder. Booth caught the movement and looked at her narrowly, "You okay Bones?"

She dismissed his question with a wave of her hand, the black clouds massing on the horizon claiming her attention. There was a storm coming, a serious one by the looks of it. She continued speaking as she unbuckled her dive gear and let him pull her to her feet. "We have to get the victim up quickly, before any more incidental damage is done to the skeletal structure. I need to give specific instructions to the FBI divers; there's a section of the wreck that will be required to be cut away to avoid compromising the remains." She located her cell phone in the pile of personal items nearby, "And I want Mr. Fisher down here as soon as possible to assist."

"I'm on it, Bones." Booth headed forward to speak to his colleagues, smiling ruefully at her curt tone as she connected with the Jeffersonian. Of all her squinterns, he imagined the indolent Fisher would no doubt be managing to keep his excitement in check at the prospect of getting down here to Virginia Beach PDQ to assist Brennan.

5:14pm

The wind had whipped up into a gale as the Coast Guard cutter nudged into the dock at Cape Charles, a multitude of bags and metal boxes with the distinctive Jeffersonian logo stacked along the deck.

Brennan was unusually quiet as they disembarked, her face set as she watched Fisher and the FBI techs load their vans and set off on the long drive back to Washington DC. Booth jogged over to the SUV, keys out in readiness, before realizing that his partner still stood at the jetty. He doubled back, impatience etched on his face.

"C'mon Bones, we've got to hit the road. It's a long drive back." He glanced up at the sky and pulled the collar of his suit jacket up against his neck to try and ward off the sharp wind. Brennan didn't seem to hear him and his anxiety spiked. "Bones?"

Brennan finally glanced his way and seemed to shake herself out of her inertia. "Sorry. I—I'm just tired." She knew Booth was especially eager to get back; Parker was staying with him tonight before Rebecca took him to Chicago to visit her mom over Christmas. Brennan turned and walked determinedly towards the vehicle, pulling herself up into the passenger seat without another word. Booth took his seat behind the steering wheel, happy to be heading home. It had been an early start and, if they didn't get a move on, another late night. He revved the SUV and did a sharp u-turn in the parking lot, the sound of gravel thrown up by the maneuver accompanying them onto the road. Neither spoke for several minutes, the miles spinning by in silence.

Booth gave his partner a sidelong look. She was massaging her shoulder again and holding her arm in a weird position. His brow furrowed with concern, "Everything okay there, Bones?"

Brennan frowned, "I don't know."

Booth was rattled. What did she mean she didn't know? "What do you mean you don't know?" He pulled the truck over to the side, ignoring the effeminate blast of car horn from the hatchback behind them. He turned in his seat and peered at her closely. She was scratching her legs now. "What's up?"

"Formication."

He chuckled, "What?"

"The sensation that insects are crawling over my skin." She looked back at him squarely. "I think I need to get to a hospital."

"Because you're itchy?"

"Not just that. There are other symptoms."

"What?" Booth was slack-jawed with shock. "Are you serious?" His hands fluttered over her, not touching down anywhere, as if trying to divine where the problem was. "What - where - what ...?"

Brennan stilled his nearest hand between both of hers, "Calm down, Booth. I think I may be experiencing symptoms of decompression illness. On top of the formication, I have acute pain in my shoulder, localised upper body muscle fatigue and paresthesia of my left forearm and hand."

He was on his cell phone to Cam before Brennan had finished the sentence, stumbling over the symptoms she'd described, "... and parentheses in her hand." He paused to listen to Cam at the other end of the line, sending his partner a worried look, his eyes darting around the cab a little desperately. "Hodgins says where?" He glanced at his watch. "No problem."

Brennan laid a hand on his arm to get his attention, "Tell Cam that Mr. Fisher will be returning soon with the remains and that I have instructed him to—"

"Forget the case. Cam agrees—she thinks you might have the bends." Booth rammed the SUV into gear and pulled straight into the line of traffic, his features taut and set. "We're heading to Norfolk Navy base, pronto. The Navy's SIMA unit is located there and they've got decompression chambers and specialists; the whole nine yards. They're expecting us." Within moments they were on the approach for the Chesapeake Bay Bridge.

Booth screwed up his mouth, anger at her putting herself in danger warring with bona fide concern for her safety. He chose his next words carefully. "Cam says this bends stuff is pretty dangerous." He paused, swallowing hard. What Cam had said was that it could be lethal, and that thought caused him to break out in a cold sweat. His frown deepened as he wrestled with the question that was uppermost in his mind, "Did you do something wrong on the dive, Bones?"

"What? No!" Brennan paused the flexing of her aching hand, and gave her partner a look of disdain, "No, of course not. I am a very experienced diver." She chewed the inside of her bottom lip, uncertainty hovering over her face, "At least, I don't think so."

Booth immediately picked up on her hesitancy, flicking his partner a sharp look. "What? What happened down there?"

Brennan shook her head, her tone decisive. "Nothing. It was a text book dive." She looked down at her hands and noticed the faint tremor in her left hand with a pulse beat of alarm. "I don't understand. I checked the gear myself, I had no mishaps, not even alternobaric vertigo. . . ." Her voice trailed off and she blinked as they came out of the second tunnel, pupils contracting at the onslaught of the eerie light that signaled the storm's approach.

Booth scanned the road signs suspended overhead, looking for the exit for Sewell's Point where Norfolk Navy Base was located. He glanced in the rear view mirror, changing lanes smoothly. Thankfully the traffic was light; the monster black clouds had sent commuters scurrying, anxious to be home before the sky split open. Already the nor'easter was whipping the water into a frenzy and everything was tinged a luminescent green.

Brennan turned to him, confusion clouding her eyes, "Why are we going to the Navy base again?"

Panic surged through Booth at his partner's uncharacteristic slip, but he schooled his face to be calm and instead of answering her, hit the truck's emergency strobes and put his foot on the gas. The flashing red and blue cleaved a path through last of the traffic. Where the hell was that main gate for Norfolk?

5:49pm

Booth paced the floor of the SIMA waiting room impatiently, hands bunched in his pockets, coins jingling discordantly. His face reflected his frustration. He was used to doing, not waiting. He jumped when his cell phone rang and hastily stabbed at the call button, leaning wearily against the nearest door frame.

Angela skipped a greeting, her concern for her friend pushing the niceties from her conversation, "How's Brennan?"

"Still being assessed." Booth ran his hand across his eyes, "She's going to be fine, Angela." He wasn't sure he believed that, but reassuring Angela was automatic. There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line before Angela spoke, "Look after her, big guy, I'm counting on you. Give her a hug from me. Oh, and Merry Christmas." This last was delivered with heavy sarcasm.

"Yeah, right. Ho ho ho." He fingered a tinsel garland framing the doorway, the full extent of seasonal decorations that had been put up in the clinic waiting room. Depression settled over him at the thought that he probably wouldn't see his son at all today and Rebecca was due to take him to visit her mom in Chicago tomorrow. The double doors at the end of the hall swung open and a man in scrubs headed in his direction. "Gotta go, Ange. I'll call you when I know more."

He shoved the phone back in his pocket, firing questions as he walked the short distance to meet him halfway. "How is she? Is it the bends? Is she going to be okay?"

"Agent Booth?" At Booth's nod, the doctor continued, "I'm Captain Garry Orbitz, ranking SIMA medical officer." The men shook hands before the Captain continued. "We've done a chest x-ray, her oxygen sats are low, blood counts are coming back any minute, her hydration levels are down and we've done a CAT scan to check for the risk of heart attack and stroke—"

"Stroke?" Booth almost choked on the word.

"Dr Brennan's undergoing a full neuro exam now, but I don't expect my diagnosis to be any different."

"And? That is?"

"Definitely presenting with decompression illness - the bends. I've already put the land chamber team on scramble and we've started her on oxygen." Booth's brows came together in concern, and the doctor hurriedly added his reassurance, "But you got her here quickly so everything should be okay with treatment."

"How could something like this happen? Brennan said she did everything right."

Captain Orbitz looked sympathetic, "She probably did do everything correctly. Sometimes DCI just happens. The fact that she recognized the symptoms and took them seriously may well have saved her from serious complications. It's rare to present with caisson disease immediately after a dive; it can take up to seventy two hours to manifest. Denial is the biggest problem." He gave Booth a kind smile. "She's going to be okay; you've come to the right place."

Relief rushed through Booth's body, leaving him limp. "Can I see her?"

Orbitz gave him a wry look, "Ah, that would probably be a good thing. Dr Brennan is—" There was that look again, "asking for you."


	2. Chapter 2

6:14pm

When Booth entered the exam room, Brennan was perched on the edge of the gurney calmly enough, an oxygen mask strapped to her head. The mutinous expression on her face gave him a hint that things might not, however, have been going smoothly.

"Booth!" She slipped the mask off and levered herself away from the gurney, relief clearing her scowl. "Tell them I have to get back to the Jeffersonian. I can't possibly stay here. There's too much to do to identify our victim and cause of death."

Booth placed his hands on her upper arms and lightly propelled her backwards until her body bumped the bed, all the time gentling her with soothing words and a hushed voice. Before she knew what had happened, he'd lifted her back onto the cot and held the plastic mask up to her. The mutinous look returned to her face and her lips thinned with resentment, but she slipped it back on.

"Do not treat me as if I am an imbecile, Booth." She wriggled on the gurney, making it rock slightly and adding emphasis to her outraged tone that came across loud and clear, despite the mask. "I cannot spare five hours in a recompression chamber on the vague possibility I might have decompression illness. We have a murder to solve." She made to get off the gurney again, but this time Booth was there, placing a hand on either side of her hips, fingers splayed on the thin mattress. He leant in, invading her space.

"_You_," he paused, looking directly in her eyes, "are not going anywhere, Bones." He was so close his breath puffed against her forehead and she inched away from the intensity of his scrutiny. Booth didn't relent and in fact edged his face nearer, nudging her chin with a knuckle to bring her eyes back to his. "_You_," he paused once more for effect, "will do as the doctor tells you and get the treatment you need."

"Booth—" She began to protest, but then stopped abruptly, rethinking her strategy. Her voice took on a cajoling tone, and she lifted the mask an inch away from her face so that speech was easier. "C'mon Booth. Look, I feel fine apart from a few aches and pains and the oxygen is helping with that. We can be back at the Jeffersonian in under an hour, I can examine the remains, set Mr. Fisher up to run the necessary tests and present myself for further treatment at George Washington emergency, or even Fairfax, by seven, eight at the latest. Well within acceptable treatment guidelines for DCI."

Booth shifted his arms from where they'd been corralling her and crossed them over his chest, the look on his face brooking no argument. "I mean it Bones, you're staying put."

Brennan's cell phone rang just then and as she took the call, her expression changed from desperation to frustration. She hit the speaker and Fisher's mournful tones filled the small cubicle.

"Dr Hodgins is up to his elbows in slime and busy flexing his phycology muscle. Dr Saroyan is doing her thing with the remains, although there is so little flesh left that in my opinion she is wasting her time." Fisher paused, his sigh amplified by the phone's speakers. "I am left to ponder the delicate nature of human existence while I wait for her to turn the remains over to us."

Booth was getting impatient and stuck his head through the cubicle curtains, looking for someone—anyone—so that they could get this show on the road before Brennan bolted. Behind him he heard the censure in Brennan's voice as she dealt with Fisher and tried to let the rest of the conversation wash over him.

Brennan at her most officious always brought a smile to his face. "I understand that Mr. Fisher, however it is Dr Saroyan's prerogative as your superior to choose to examine the remains and attempt a meaningful autopsy prior to maceration, despite any unrealistic expectations she may hold. You will just have to do the best you can with the samples we collected until I am able to return to the lab."

Booth took a couple of steps down the hall, still only half tuned into the conversation as Fisher went on.

"You mean _if_ you return to the lab. It must be quite exciting to be teetering on the brink of 'the great adventure'." Fisher paused, and the smile in his voice was discernible when he spoke again. "I've been researching the ways that you can die from a decompression illness; apart from the obvious, a gas embolism, which in and of itself is fascinating in the number of organs it can decimate—which reminds me Dr Brennan, any bloody frothing at the mouth—apparently you can . . . "

Booth did an abrupt about turn, sliding the last couple of feet to the cubicle on the highly polished floor. He grabbed the phone out of Brennan's hands, cutting the connection with a vicious jab of his finger, his lips pressed together in a thin white line of anger. _Damn Fisher and damn his morbid curiosity._

Brennan's face when she turned to Booth was pale with tension. She tried one more time, her voice almost desperate. "Please, Booth. I need to go back to the Jeffersonian."

"Don't take any notice of Fisher. You know he's full of it." Booth backed off, looking at her quizzically. "What's going on here, Bones? You should be right behind this, getting treatment and all, using that logic and reason of yours."

Brennan dropped her eyes, avoiding his perceptive gaze.

"Bones?"

A shudder ran through her body, and she sighed, her breath fogging the plastic shield of the mask. "I can't stand the thought of being in that little box for five hours. The whole idea gives me the jeebie jeebies."

"Heebie jeebies."

"Huh?"

"Never mind." He put his hands on his hips, ready to do battle with her for her own sake. "Look, Bones, this is really serious stuff. I don't have to tell you that."

She shook her head in response, eyes on the floor.

He dropped his voice to almost a whisper, "You could stroke out or have a heart attack or all sorts of weird things could happen that could actually kill you."

"I know." She answered, subdued.

"Well then, that's settled. We'll just get them to give you something to calm you right down and you won't even care where you are. You'll be fine."

Brennan brushed her hair back with a shaky hand, not answering him, and took another deep breath to try and steady herself. Booth examined her surreptitiously; everything pointed to her being genuinely terrified, and that scared _him_. Brennan didn't make a habit of showing her fear of anything or anyone, much to his annoyance on too many occasions to mention.

Booth poked his head through the curtains once again, looking for the doctor. What was taking everyone so long? He spotted Orbitz at the other end of the corridor speaking to another medical officer, and he held his irritation in check until he saw the doctor sign a clipboard and hand it off to a corpsman. Booth waved a hand to catch his attention and Orbitz headed towards him straight away.

"We ready to rock and roll?" The doctor enquired, his tone brisk.

"Slight hitch." Booth replied softly. He cocked his head to the side and drew the younger man away a few steps from the cubicle. "Ah, Dr Brennan might need a little something to calm her down—I think she's feeling a bit panicked about the whole thing."

Orbitz drew his brows together with concern, "A common reaction, but I'd really rather not give her a sedative. We have a lot of civilian divers come in for treatment who have the same reaction, but they all settle down given a bit of time, once they realize it's not as bad as everyone thinks."

Booth grimaced, "Yeah, well, Dr Brennan, she's not like other people."

The doctor chuckled, "I noticed."

"No—I mean—wait, that came out wrong. I just mean that Bones is—"

"Booth?" Brennan's imperious summons cut across whatever he was going to say and they both turned towards her voice.

Captain Orbitz raised an eyebrow, "She's used to getting her own way, isn't she?"

"Booth? Can we go now?" Brennan called out again and the men turned as one towards the cubicle. "I'm not sure any of these doctors is even old enough to be qualified." Booth shot the younger man a look of apology, but the doctor merely looked amused.

"I can assure you, Dr Brennan, that I'm very well qualified to treat you," he said as he pulled back the fabric curtains and approached her. He reached out and wordlessly replaced the oxygen mask on her face. "I've been administering hyperbaric oxygen therapy here at SIMA for the last twelve years." His smile widened as Brennan had the grace to look uncomfortable. "And I'm not that young, just a product of good genes."

He picked up her chart and frowned as he checked the information recorded there. "We'll be starting the hyperbaric treatment immediately. I need you to change into some scrubs, and then I can get some baselines before we start."

Brennan inhaled deeply, the hit of oxygen making her eyes widen involuntarily. "I'm really feeling very uncomfortable about proceeding with this treatment right at this moment."

"I understand that, Dr Brennan, but you are definitely suffering a DCI and you need this treatment now. Your anxiety is understandable but I'm afraid I can't give you any benzodiazepines since we will need to monitor your verbal response during the treatment." He stashed the chart under one arm, put his hands in the pockets of his scrubs and adopted his most reassuring professional voice. "Our dive units have a one hundred per cent success rate in treating hundreds of military and civilian patients as well as professional and recreational divers for DCS, and for arterial gas embolisms in the general public."

Brennan didn't look convinced, but Booth jumped on the word 'embolisms' and turned back to his partner, brimming over with forced good humor.

"It'll be easy, Bones, over before you know it. Think of it as a bit of down time, and we've both been going non-stop for weeks so that can't be a bad thing, eh? A chance to recharge your batteries, kick back a bit." He rubbed his handed together, warming to his theme. "And besides, it's going to be a great dinner party story, along with that one you tell about the mass grave in Peruvia or wherever. Fisher can still do the tests you need and the rest of the squints can still do their thing. No-one's indispensible after all, at least not for just a few hours. Maybe the doc's got some medical journals around and you can catch up with your reading?"

Brennan acknowledged her partner's pep talk with a crooked smile, but turned towards the doctor, her demeanor changing suddenly to calm and composed. She lifted the mask away to speak, but Orbitz pushed it back once again. Brennan raised her voice to be heard more easily. "I have reconsidered. I'm no longer interested in being prescribed anxiolytics, although I read an article recently in the _American Journal of Pharmaceutical Education_ that Validol would be more appropriate in these circumstances, according to the most current research."

Captain Orbtiz gave her a sideways look and surreptitiously made a quick note in the margin of her chart.

"I need to be alert and without any mental impairment induced by such sedative medications." She folded her hands in her lap, the picture of calm co-operation. "I agree to undertake this treatment now—"

Booth's face split in a smile, "Way to go Bones."

But his partner hadn't finished, "—provided Agent Booth accompanies me in the hyperbaric chamber."

Booth's smile collapsed instantly. "What? No way."

She looked at the Navy doctor earnestly, "I want Booth there. Are there any contraindications to that course of action?"

Booth interjected, his expression mutinous. "Try this for contrainda . . . bilities; I don't want to."

Brennan was keyed up, grabbing Booth's arm to help convince him. "It's the most logical solution. And you know you always have a very calming effect on me when I'm agitated."

"Wait, wait." Booth couldn't believe what he was hearing, or quell the faint panic rising in his chest. "I will not be your drug of choice."

"I don't know what that means." Brennan looked momentarily annoyed.

He rolled his eyes and turned to Orbitz in exasperation. "Tell her it's not going to happen. Is it even safe for me to be in there?"

Orbitz smiled sweetly. "Well, sure. We do training runs—Chamber Awareness Specialty Courses—all the time, to demystify the process for divers. It's basically the same procedure. Are you an experienced diver, Agent Booth?"

"I did some basic training in the Rangers years ago, but lately I'm more your snorkel and fins on a tropical beach kind of guy."

"You should be fine and I have no objection." Orbitz' smile morphed into a smirk. "We can give you a sedative if you like?"

"Very funny, Dr Funny Guy." Booth's aggravation escalated another couple of notches.

Brennan's hand hadn't moved from his arm, and now she tugged gently at his sleeve. "This way we could continue to work on the case. Please, Booth."

He turned back to his partner. It was a rare occasion when Brennan pleaded with him, and it was having the desired affect, even if Booth didn't realize it yet. He scruffed his hand over the back of his neck, trying to ease the feeling he was being railroaded. "C'mon Bones, you don't need me there." He protested, but the doggedness had left his voice.

Brennan didn't reply with words, transferring all her powers of persuasion to the look in her eyes, and the effect took Booth's breath away. He felt his resolve crumbling even as he gave it one more try. "Bones, are you sure you can't do this without me?"

Brennan's whispered response was his undoing. "Booth, I _know_ I can't do this without you." A sad little smile flicked across her face and she continued, using his own words against him. "I believe it would qualify as some down time, and a good story to relate to your colleagues on social occasions."

His shoulders slumped in surrender as he silently acknowledged there was really no other course of action open to him. He hoped Parker would understand. No way could he let Bones down, and he knew it.

He let out a half laugh, the blood supply slowly returning to his sense of humor. First the doctor and now his partner. "What, are you two a double act now?"

"We really need to get this happening ASAP," Orbitz prodded, beginning to look impatient.

Brennan was still watching him closely and he couldn't hold out any more. "Okay, okay. I'll do it."

"Thank you, Booth." was Brennan's soft reply.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, for some bizarre reason FF isn't saving some of my formatting changes, so apologies if this is a bit cramped. Hope you enjoy!

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7:08pm

"Heh. Bones, these bootees are actually pretty comfortable." Booth had changed out of his suit and into scrubs, and was sitting on a bench outside the hyperbaric chamber, his legs stretched out in front of him as he admired his footwear. "Do you think I can keep them after this is all over?"

Brennan didn't respond. She was standing with her arms crossed over her similarly clad chest, carefully inspecting the large panel of dials and controls that were used to monitor the operation. The chamber supervisor, Petty Officer First Class Billette, and a saturation technician were patiently answering her questions.

Orbitz came in, bringing with him a sense of purpose. "Right. Let's do this." He shot a look at Billette, who nodded and released the first hatch remotely via the main controls.

"Okay." The doctor joined them in the entry hatch for a last minute check. "I've explained the procedure. What do you need to remember?"

Booth answered for the both of them, "Equalize the pressure in our ears as often as needed. Stay seated. No speaking until we're down to pressure. Follow all the Petty Officer's instructions."

Orbitz nodded, "That last one's the most important. I haven't assigned you an inside tender, but we've got a live video feed. If you need anything – maybe more water, but there's plenty in there – just ask. We can pass it through to you via the smaller pressurized hatchway." A sailor came up to them, carrying a laptop which she handed to Brennan.

"You're using your laptop at your own risk, Dr Brennan." The doctor tapped the computer with one finger as he gave her the caution.

"Is it really safe to use it? We had to hand over our cell phones." Booth asked, eyeing the laptop with suspicion.

Orbitz was already nodding. "It's fine, the techs have checked it out. Only problem might be the LCD screen could crack under the higher pressure. Cell phone batteries are a whole different thing." He shrugged, looking at the computer again. "Reception might be patchy on the Wi-Fi, but you're welcome to try."

"I can at least find out from Mr. Fisher how matters are proceeding with the remains." Brennan seemed thankful for small mercies.

Orbitz stood back and let his chamber supervisor take over. The hatch sealed behind Brennan and Booth with a whoosh of air. The silence was eerie and the partners shared an apprehensive glance.

Booth flopped down on one of the padded benches running along either side of the structure. "Feels like we're inside the belly of a Blackhawk." He fidgeted with oxygen equipment hanging behind him, winding one of the ribbed pipes around his hand while his eyes darted around the enclosed space nervously. Reaching out one finger he tapped a line of rivets on the bulkhead nearest him. "Looks a bit like it too." He picked up a cellophane bag containing a brightly colored plastic children's toy, the kind where you put the differently shaped objects into the right sized hole. "Hey look at this, Bones. They even give you toys to play with if you get bored." He threw the package up in the air with one hand and caught it with the other, looking at Brennan as if he'd just pulled off a complex gymnastics move. When she didn't react, he tossed it back onto the bench. "I would have preferred a pack of cards."

"The toy is probably to test our dexterity and coordination at depth. Now shush, Booth. No more talking." Brennan sat ramrod straight on the bench opposite Booth, hands clasped tightly her lap. A subdued hum slowly built in intensity until it peaked at a level just shy of uncomfortable.

"Jeez Louise, that's intense." Booth pinched his nose, clearing the pressure in his ears. Brennan followed suit almost immediately.

Billette's voice cut through the background noise. "Please remain silent until we get you to pressure. There's a depth display to your right, Dr Brennan. We're using US Navy Treatment Table 6 and taking you down to 2.8 bars or the equivalent of eighteen meters. I'll let you know when you're there. Should be about twenty minutes, give or take."

Booth snuck over to the other bench and nudged Brennan aside so he could watch the numbers change, clearing his ears again as he went. They sat together on the narrow bench, watching the gauge tick over slowly. All was quiet except for the humming of machinery and the hissing of the gas mixture being pumped into the chamber. Every few minutes the voice of the chamber supervisor came over the feed, asking Brennan a series of simple questions to check her responses, some verbal but most only requiring the universal thumbs up in reply.

7:26pm

They were approaching the prescribed 'depth' when Booth started to feel uncomfortable, shifting his position and tapping his jaw. When he let out a subdued groan, Brennan looked sharply at him, concerned.

The Petty Officer's voice came over the intercom, "Ears painful, Agent Booth?"

Booth nodded, his face screwed up in discomfort.

"It's just excess pressure build up. Try equalizing your ears again."

Booth tried, but shook his head, putting his hand up to both ears as the pain intensified.

"Try the Frenzel maneuver, Booth." Brennan whispered.

A dubious look twisted Booth's face at his partner's suggestion; he didn't have a clue what she was on about.

Billette came to his rescue. "She means swallow at the same time as you exhale into your pinched your nose." He paused while Booth gave it a shot. "Better?"

Booth shook his head again but before he could open his mouth to speak, Brennan had taken hold of his chin, wiggling his jaw from side to side. His hand went up to push it away automatically, but by the time his hand had covered hers, the pain stopped.

"Guh. That's amazing." Brennan went to move away, but Booth captured her hand in his and their eyes locked for a moment. "How did you do that?"

Her response was wry, "Science."

"Felt more like magic," he joked, swallowing convulsively when he realized that could be taken the wrong way. He gave her hand a quick squeeze and then let go. "Thanks, Bones."

7:37pm

"Okay guys, you're at depth." Billette sounded almost as relieved as the partners felt. "Feel free to stretch your legs for a few minutes. There's bottled water in the small hatch if you're thirsty."

Booth jumped up straight away, grabbing a couple of bottles from the hatch and passing one to Brennan. He downed his in three gulps and took another one, finishing it almost as quickly.

Brennan blotted her neck and face with a paper towel she'd found on a shelf. She pushed her hair back from her forehead and took a long swallow from her water bottle.

Booth was trying to create a breeze by pulling the fabric of his shirt away from his skin. Perspiration ringed the neck and arms of the garment. "It is so hot. Why is it so hot?" He complained, his voice high and unnaturally nasal. In fact he sounded pretty much one hundred percent chipmunk, of the cartoon variety.

Brennan burst out laughing, mostly at the look of horror on Booth's face when he heard the sound of his own voice, and managed to snort water over herself. When Brennan's voice exhibited the same helium tinged tones, it was Booth's turn to chortle, and they laughed together like some manic Alvin and the Chipmunks marathon until they both had trouble catching their breath.

Outside, the chamber technician raised an eyebrow and gave Petty Officer Billette a wry look. "Think we should remind them they're on a live feed?"

"Nah. Looks like they could both do with a good laugh. It usually wears off pretty quickly when the gas and pressure equalizes." He turned back to the screen, watching as the pair slumped on one the benches, clutching their midsections, and then got the giggles all over again.

The hilarity inside the chamber gradually subsided and their voices returned to normal. Booth stretched out, his legs extended behind Brennan on the bench, and propped his head on his hand. She went to move, but he stayed her with his other hand. The laughter was still on her face and she glowed with it. For the zillionth time, he marveled at how beautiful his partner was. "Y'know, you don't laugh enough Bones."

"I laugh plenty." She looked down at him, her lashes only partially shielding her expression. "Well, at least," she countered, "I have laughed a great deal more since we started working together."

"What, you mean when you laugh at me?"

"No!" She opened her mouth to protest further, but caught the gleam in his eye. "Oh, you're teasing me?" When his smile widened to a cheeky grin, she matched it with one of her own before a serious expression settled over her face. "I like working with you Booth."

"I like working with you too, Bones." He felt her mood shift, and sat up, confused by the sudden change in her. She inched over to give him room, leaning into him when he'd settled his position.

"I don't want you to think that there is any aspect of our working together that I don't value."

"Thanks, Bones." His brows drew together with concern, "What brought this on, Bones?"

"I don't know." She put a hand to her forehead, her lips twisted in a rueful smile "Perhaps I think too much."

Booth put an arm around her protectively, "You? Think too much? Nah, I don't see it."

This put a smile back on her face, just as he'd hoped. Before she had thoroughly considered what she was doing, she planted a feather light kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Whoa, Bones, be careful." He chided her.

"Why, are you a danger to me?"

"The only danger here is to my sanity." _'And would that be such a bad thing?'_ His thoughts mocked him.

"Now you're being ridiculous."

He gave her shoulders a squeeze, "Ah, that's my Bones."

Silence stretched between them, but it was a comfortable silence.


	4. Chapter 4

7:48pm

A different voice came over the intercom. "Okay, guys, this is the boring part. We're going to bring you up slowly. The whole process takes about four and a half hours."

"Who is this?" Brennan wanted to know.

"Damage Controlman Third Class Joe Speigelman here, Dr Brennan. Petty Officer Billette is on a break."

Booth looked taken aback, and said in a quick aside to Brennan, "Damage Controlman? What sort of damage does he need to control?"

Brennan held up her hand to stem Booth's interruption, waiting attentively for further instructions.

The technician continued. "Make yourselves comfortable and just ask if you need anything. I'll let you know when you need to take extra oxygen – you'll need to use the oxygen helmets that are hooked up behind you. As we get closer to surface pressure it will cool down, but keep your water intake up. Good luck."

"Good Luck? Why do we need luck?" Booth hissed to Brennan, his unease building.

Brennan replied matter-of-factly, "I believe that the Damage Controlman was referring to the possible consequences of repressurization. Although the possibility is remote, there are a number of complications that can occur."

"And you're just telling me this now?" His voice rose with incredulity. "You couldn't have told a little white lie just to reassure me?"

"Being reassuring has never been my strong suit, Booth." She was fiddling with the laptop as she spoke and missed the narrow look he gave her, his arms crossed resentfully over his chest.

Brennan checked the screen carefully for any signs of damage while she waited for the video call to go through to the Jeffersonian, sending Booth a quick grin of satisfaction that it was all in one piece. "No cracks!"

Booth watched the smile fade to faint displeasure when Lance Sweets appeared on the screen instead of her intern.

"Hello Dr Brennan. It's good to see you looking so well." He spotted Booth and tried to keep the surprise off his face, failing miserably. "Agent Booth—what are you doing in there? I don't understand."

Brennan ignored his question, cutting without preamble to her priority. "Where is Mr. Fisher?"

"Oh, he asked me to wait here in case you called. He and Dr Hodgins have headed over to Eckington to check out a restaurant supply company. Something about setting up an experiment to test one of Hodgins' theories on the murder. They should be back any minute."

Booth's face took on a dyspeptic cast. "Someone let them out of the lab? Good grief."

"But never mind about that," Sweets' went on, his expression turning serious, "Dr Brennan, I wanted touch base with you, to ask you how you feel you are coping with the situation you are in. The possibility of facing serious injury can be emotionally debilitating."

Brennan dismissed his enquiries with a wave of her hand, concentrating on the issues uppermost in her mind. "And where is Dr Saroyan?"

"Dr Saroyan is still in the autopsy suite. But tell me," he nodded in Booth's direction, his voice colored with the smile that curved his lips. "Why is Agent Booth there with you in the chamber?"

Brennan sighed, comprehending with atypical insight that Sweets wasn't going to leave this alone until he got some sort of answer. "I felt it was important that Agent Booth be here with me."

Booth shielded his mouth with his hand, his voice low and insistent. "No, Bones, don't tell him that."

"But why not? It's the truth." Brennan copied his pose, covering her mouth as well, so that they looked like ninth graders passing on secrets.

"He's just going to get all therapist on our asses." Booth raised his eyebrows at her, nodding for emphasis and looking everywhere but at the screen.

Sweets pounced on her choice of words, looking for a breakthrough. "Why is that important to you?" His expression was almost zealous. "Why—why was it important that you share this experience with Agent Booth?"

"See, I told you." Booth re-crossed his arms over his chest, not much happy at being right.

Brennan tried to deflect Sweet's interrogation, "My rationale for this is not pertinent to the situation."

"On the contrary, Dr Brennan, all our behaviors are guided by primary motivations—"

"Sweets—no therapy." Booth cut in, his tone a warning.

Sweets leaned closer to the screen, his eyes narrowing as he tried to work out the dynamics of the situation. "Guys, this is wicked stressful. May I suggest that this is a golden opportunity to _feel_ emotions rather than simply rationalize them?"

Booth turned to Brennan, exasperated. "Don't you have any control over your people?

"Sweets is not 'my' people." Brennan was adamant. "If anything he's 'your' people."

Booth considered that for a moment. "You're right. See ya, Sweets." He reached out and started to close the laptop, ignoring the picture of Sweets as he leaned down and tried to maintain eye contact with them both as they disappeared from view.

"Wait – I want to know …" Whatever he wanted to know was lost in the ether.

"But I wanted to talk to Fisher," Brennan pouted prettily.

"He'll call back as soon as he knows you're looking for him. Trust me."

8:15pm

Parker's cherubic face came onto the screen, his brow furrowed with worry for his dad. When he saw that Booth was okay, his face cleared and he even managed a little wave to Brennan.

"Dad, how come you're there with Dr Bones? Did you dive in the water too?"

"No, Bones, she—well, she just wanted some company."

"Was she scared, like I used to get scared when I was little and I had a bad dream and you'd come and sing to me?"

"Yeah, buddy, it's kinda like that."

Brennan snorted, not even attempting to keep her voice low, or stem the rumble of laughter that threaded through her words. "You sing to him? Booth, you can't sing in tune."

Booth's smile froze and he replied to her barb through the side of his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. Kids don't care whether you sing in tune, Bones."

Brennan looked skeptical. "You say that now but I've heard you sing, Booth. You do not sing in tune. Although, in my opinion, you have a very nice speaking voice."

Booth screwed up his face, not sure how to take her comment. "Ok. Thank you. I think."

"Are you going to sing to Dr Bones, Dad?" Parker's lopsided smile echoed his delight at the prospect.

"Probably not after that crack." Was his father's cryptic response.

"Huh?"

Booth rephrased things. "No, Parker. I don't think she'd know any of our songs."

"Sure I would." Brennan piped up but then reconsidered the prospect. "Well, maybe I would. Like what?"

"Dad's best at rock and roll." The little boy was really proud. "And air guitar."

"Air guitar? I don't know what that means. Is it some sort of reed instrument?"

This bought a smile to Booth's lips, "No Bones, it's like, I dunno, method acting."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Parker giggled. "Dad says that happens a lot. He says half the time he doesn't know what you're talking about either."

"Parker!" Booth scowled at the young boy's image on the screen, before relenting and smiling conspiratorially at his son. "Okay that's enough. You have fun at Grandma's for Christmas, buddy. I'm sorry we can't have that sleepover."

"No. Dad, wait. I almost forgot to tell you. Mom said she got us tickets on the plane, so we don't have to drive all the way to Chicago. I can stay with you tomorrow." Parker's face was lit up with excitement.

"You're kidding. We've got Christmas Eve together? That's—wow—that's awesome." Booth's could barely contain his glee either. "How did she swing that, for crying out loud?"

The little boy shrugged. The mechanics of these sorts of things were up to the adults and he didn't usually take a lot of notice. "She said something about seeing as you were paying we could go first class or something."

Even that little snippet wipe couldn't wipe the smile off Booth's face. "That's so great, buddy. But I'd better let you get to bed now, it's getting late." Father and son exchanged a look of pure happiness. "Goodnight, Parker. Sleep tight."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite. Night, Dad. Bye Dr Bones." With a wave he was gone.

9:37pm

"I should really call the lab." Brennan fretted, and before Booth could reply an incoming called flashed up on the screen. Colin Fisher's lugubrious face came onto the screen.

"Dr Brennan. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you called. Hodgins and I are conducting an experiment." Fisher wore, for him, a gleeful expression.

She cut him off, her voice no-nonsense rather than annoyed. "So I was informed. Does it have anything to do with the skeletal remains?"

"Not directly, but—" Fisher's face started to fall.

"Have you commenced examination of the bones?

"Er, no, but—" Fisher was flustered now, color infusing his cheeks.

"Have you at least prepared the bones for examination?"

"I'm currently in the process, but—"

"I suggest you concentrate on preparing the remains for examination, rather than engaging in experimentation with Dr Hodgins."

"Yes, Dr Brennan. I'm sorry I let you down. I'm never here when you need me. I don't know what I was thinking." By this stage, Fisher's whole demeanor had deflated and he looked miserable, his eyes downcast.

Brennan looked confused by Fisher's abject apology, "You haven't let me down, Mr. Fisher."

Fisher glanced up at her then, hope lighting his eyes. "I haven't?"

"No, I merely wanted to ascertain whether the correct procedures are being undertaken. I have every faith in your abilities to perform an adequate examination in my absence. You are more than qualified to undertake this work and are fully acquainted with the appropriate protocols." Brennan moved on, "Are there any other developments?"

Fisher hit a button on the screen and a picture of a handsome Latino man filled the screen. "Ms Montenegro has identified our victim. Jorge Duarte. Mr. Duarte has been missing for three days."

This made Booth finally sit up and take notice. "That's pretty big news. Why didn't you lead with that?"

"Wait." Brennan interjected. "Three days does not seem to fit with the level of decomposition present, even considering the time the body may have been underwater."

"It's certainly a conundrum. As is life itself." Fisher replied happily, his equanimity restored.

"Ye-es." Brennan eyed Fisher uncertainly. "Keep me informed of further developments."

She disconnected without ceremony, looking at Booth with a heavy frown. "I should be there."

"You and me both, Bones. This sounds like a tricky one."

Brennan nodded in agreement, but something else was still bothering her. "I do not understand why Mr. Fisher insists on indulging his proclivity for negativity at every turn. I find it exhausting to have to constantly reassure him."

Booth's laughter was louder than he intended, "That was you reassuring him?"

"Yes, of course." Brennan looked unsure of herself. "You didn't think I was reassuring?"

Booth looked a little uncomfortable, but decided against sugar coating his opinion. "Ah, I thought you were a little harsh, to be honest."

Brennan was crestfallen. "I was? That was not my intention. Perhaps I should apologize to him?"

"Nah, he'll live. Besides, I think he'd pass out if you were actually nice to him." Booth joked, and earned himself an irate jab in the ribs from his partner, which only made him laugh harder.


	5. Chapter 5

10:10pm

Brennan and Booth were sitting opposite each other, connected to the oxygen therapy. Over the course of the evening the routine had become familiar, essential as part of the recompression process. They wore lightweight clear vinyl helmets that resembled nothing more than an overturned bucket, designed to be worn like the helmet of a spacesuit, and Booth felt like an idiot wearing it. His exasperation showed in the distinctly pissed look on his face and the way he continually drummed his fingers against the side of the bench.

Brennan reached over and stilled his hand, which worked for a few moments until it started up again seemingly without him being aware of what he was doing.

"Booth. Can you please stop that?" she pleaded, irritation eating into her voice.

"I can't help it. This is so boring." He dragged out the last word dramatically. The chamber supervisor finally gave them the thumbs up to let them know this therapy session was over. Booth threw his helmet onto the bench with more force than was really necessary and it bounced back up, the dual pipes acting like flexible brakes.

"Try the lab again." He urged, anxious for something, anything, to break his boredom.

Brennan obliged, begrudgingly, and gave Booth a dry look when yet again the signal failed. She shut the laptop and put it to one side.

"Still no signal."

"That storm must still be going strong." He eyed the camera for the live feed and addressed Petty Officer Billete. "What's it look like outside?"

Billette answered briskly. "We've got thirty knot winds registering on the Point at the moment, sir. Our aerographer's mate reports the storm hasn't peaked yet, probably an hour or more in it yet." The storm that had been threatening all those hours ago at Cape Charles had finally broken about twenty minutes ago, effectively cutting off their contact with the Jeffersonian.

Booth nodded his thanks and leaned forward towards Brennan, his elbow resting on his knees, and regarded her expectantly, "So, what are we going to do?"

"Do? What do you mean?"

He threw his hands up, "I can't just sit here doing nothing. I'll go insane in about ten seconds."

"That would be unusual to say the least. Although the descent from sanity to insanity can be rapid, it generally takes longer than ten seconds. It has to do with electrical impulses and response to stimuli. There is actually research being currently conducted in Romania that posits an algorithm for the process. If you're interested I can describe their experiments in more detail. It's really quite fascinating."

The look Booth gave her was priceless, "How do you even know that? Do you just Google your brain for these things?"

"I read." One eyebrow arched, as it always did when she felt superior. To Booth. "Actual books, mostly without colorful illustrations. And journals of course."

"Of course." He regarded her narrowly, "Has anyone ever told you that you need to loosen up more, have a little fun?"

"Apart from you, Angela says that at least once a week. But I can be loose."

He chuckled. "Ah, not sure you need to go that far."

That went over her head, but Brennan's face brightened as a thought occurred to her. "We could play a game?"

"Oh ho—now you're talking. What have you got in mind?" Booth grinned. "Did you find some cards? Texas hold 'em?" Brennan leveled a humorless look at him. "Gin rummy?" No change. "Go Fish?" Brennan narrowed her eyes.

"Booth, you know I don't have any cards. But we could play a word game?" she suggested hopefully.

Booth sighed and sank back against the wall. "Well you'd better keep it simple because you know a lot more words than I do."

"Oh, okay. There's one I used to play with my mother, 'Watch My Lips'."

"I could get on board with that." He kept lips pressed together to cover the smile that threatened to emerge at his own twist on that particular game. "Tell me how you play it."

"You've got to try and say something without moving your lips and see if the other person can tell what you're saying. Like this," she demonstrated, with barely a change in her expression, "Dum Spiro Spero."

"Something in English would help, and besides I can see your lips moving." It was fascinating watching her lips. '_For the game_', he reminded himself.

"What? No. Let me do it again." She took a deep breath and tried, equally unsuccessfully, to speak without moving her lips, "While I breathe, I hope". She relaxed her mouth. "That's the English translation."

"Nice quote, but I can still see your lips moving, Bones." Moving, just about everywhere.

"Oh."

"Forget about that. What about Truth or Dare?"

"Oh no, absolutely not." She looked alarmed. "Angela made me play that one time and I ended up in a very compromising position."

Booth was eager to know more. "Were there shots involved?"

"Yes, there was a large amount of alcohol involved, if I remember correctly."

"So—ah—what was this compromising situation?" he prodded, getting more animated.

"Angela swore me to secrecy." Her mouth primed to a thin line and she looked at her hands folded demurely in her lap and would say no more.

"Huh. You can tell Angela from me she's no fun." He yawned extravagantly and swung his legs up on the bench. "I'm going to get some shuteye. Wake me up if anything happens."

11:02pm

A noise something like a growl invaded Booth's subconscious and he woke abruptly, his heart thudding in his chest. Brennan was striding from one end of the small compartment to the other, kicking the toy they'd been using for their dexterity tests in front of her as she went. After two or three lengths in the same vein, all of the brightly colored pegs had scattered across the floor.

Booth rubbed the fatigue out of his eyes and automatically started collecting the scattered pieces. "What's the matter?"

"It's so frustrating not being able to get through to the lab. Why haven't we heard anything?"

Booth swung his feet to the ground and collected the last couple of pieces of brightly colored plastic and handed them to her. "Can't do anything about the forces of nature, Bones. I'm sure when things calm down out there, Fisher will be on the line straight away."

She slumped down onto her bench, idly trying to stuff a square peg into a round hole. When that didn't work she tossed it to one side. "I hate feeling so useless."

"So you took it out on a kid's toy?"

"Oh Booth, I'm sorry to dragged you into this."

"Hey." He scooted over next to her, hearing the real distress in her voice. "Don't worry about that. We're partners, right?" As if that explained everything. And in a way it did.

"But you missed out on Parker coming over. And the investigation is on hold. And all this time we've spent here could have been used more constructively—"

"Parker knows how much I love him; he's not going to worry about a few hours missed out on here or there. And besides, you heard what he said." Booth's lip curled, "I'm paying to fly them out to Chicago so we'll catch up that time, and more."

"I'll pay the fares. It's all down to me that they had to do that anyway."

"Now you're just being foolish. Do you want to be alone in your pity party or can anyone join in?"

That brought a small smile to Brennan's face even if she didn't quite understand what he meant, and Booth relaxed a little.

"And you're about as far away from being useless as anyone can possibly be. You've told Fisher what to do, Angela's identified the vic, even Hodgins has a solid line on the evidence. It will all come together fine."

Brennan rested her head against his shoulder, and relaxed into him.

11:49pm

The incoming call notification on the laptop made them both jump.

"Finally." Brennan hit the receive button and Fisher's face filled the screen.

"I have completed my examination of the remains, Dr Brennan." Fisher swung the monitor so that they could view the video of the microscopic examination of the bones. He spoke rapidly, anxious to tell his story.

"Dr Saroyan and I have conferred and agree that the victim was attacked from behind. A sharp instrument entered the skull just behind the ear, nicked the mastoid, continued through the oral pharynx and terminated on the opposite side of the mandible. Dr Saroyan was able to confirm damage to the sternocleidomastoid muscle and we believe that the carotid artery was damaged, and was in fact the cause of death."

Brennan didn't attempt to contain the skepticism in her voice. "Dr Saroyan and you conferred?"

"Yes." A dreamy look came over his long, intelligent face. "You know she really is a very sweet lady. Quite a peach."

Brennan lowered her voice so that only Booth could hear her comment. "I suspect Mr. Fisher has taken leave of his senses, Booth."

Booth replied in a whisper, "Either that or he's on drugs."

"I can read lips, you know." Fisher replied dryly.

"Explicate your process please." Brennan requested briskly, and while Fisher launched into a long and involved technical discourse filled with cutting edge graphics and incomprehensible test results, punctuated every few moments by Brennan firing thorny questions at him, Booth found his mind wandering. By the time he had recalled the scores, including penalties, of all the Flyers games from the last three seasons, he could tell from the tone of her voice that Brennan had pretty much exhausted the supply of wrenches she could throw in Fisher's explicatory path. She fell silent while Fisher wound up.

"Dr Hodgins and I identified the murder weapon via minute traces of a particular type of rolled steel that had been left in the mylo-hyoid line of the mandible, and he was also able to match the particles of soil that Dr Saroyan found in the remains of the trachea to the samples that the FBI techs obtained from his home." By now Fisher was looking unsure of himself, and his voice faltered. In his euphoria at having solved this particular riddle, he hadn't considered the effect his successful autonomy might have on his relationship with his mentor. "Are you in agreement, Dr Brennan?"

It took a few moments for Brennan to reply, but when she did Booth was impressed by the generosity of her praise despite the fact that it seemed to stick just a little bit in her throat.

"Very well done, Mr Fisher. Your logic and your method are both faultless."

Fisher looked relieved, "You have nothing to worry about, Dr Brennan. I assure you that our conclusions are sound. Dr Saroyan has passed our conclusions on to the FBI and they have arrested the victim's wife for his murder."

Booth sat up at that, astonishment plain on his face. "We've arrested someone already?"

Fisher nodded. "She's being interrogated as we speak."

"Wow." Booth stared at him for a few seconds, speechless, before his face split in a grin. "That's the sort of Christmas present I can really get behind."

Brennan spoke up. "You have done an exemplary job, Mr. Fisher. I do not believe that I would have done anything differently had I been there."

Fisher's grin almost split his face in two at Brennan's praise. Booth barely recognized him.

Fisher ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed at the show of emotion. "Well I guess that wraps it up. Have a cool Yule, Dr Brennan. Agent Booth."

"Back atcha, Fisher." Booth called out.

Brennan closed the laptop with a snap, effectively putting a full stop to the conversation and the investigation.

12:32am

Booth bundled up his tie and stuck it in his suit pocket, his hands tapping at his trouser pockets to make sure everything was in place before heading off find Bones. It felt good to be leaving. As he reached the examination cubicle where Brennan was having her final assessment, he could hear Orbitz winding up, and he hung back while he finished giving her instructions.

"Don't do any diving for four weeks, but apart from that you're good to go." The captain flung back the curtain as he spoke, giving Booth a friendly nod before striding off towards the other end of the ward and disappearing through a doorway.

"You decent Bones?" Booth didn't wait for an answer before he barged in. Surprisingly, Brennan was sat on the edge of the gurney, fully dressed. Booth felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

"So, we can leave now? I heard the doc give you a clean bill of health—that's great." He had expected his partner to be a bit more animated at the prospect of their imminent freedom, so he tried another tack. "And the investigation's pretty much wrapped up and we barely had to lift a finger. Win-win."

"You sound pleased." Brennan's voice was dull and flat, another surprise for him.

Booth's brows came together, puzzled. "Of course I'm pleased, why wouldn't I be? You're over this bends thing, I didn't die, we've put a name to the victim and caught the baddie. I feel great." He plopped down next to her, and whispered conspiratorially "And the fat man in the red suit is due to visit," he made a display of checking his watch, "tomorrow. What more could you ask for?"

"It really doesn't bother you that it was all done without our actual involvement?" She was talking about the case, of course.

Booth finally understood what had put the morose expression on his partner's face. "Is that what's getting to you? That it wasn't you who worked it all out?"

"No, of course not." Her response was automatic, but she hesitated. "Well, maybe a little."

"Why? I don't get it."

She still looked upset, and Booth struggled to make it better.

"Look, Bones. You may not have been in the lab, but it's because of you that your squints were able to put everything together so quickly. Whether you were there or not, you solved it, by being the best and expecting the best from your people. It's as simple as that."

She still didn't look happy and didn't resist when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gathered her close, "Hey. You're more than just a lab rat, Bones. You've made your mark as a whole human being; those squints of yours, they're as good as they are because of you. Sure, you weren't there and didn't not do any hands on stuff, but I'm damn sure they wouldn't be able to do what they do if you hadn't taught them the way to do it." He paused and screwed his mouth to one side. "Did that make sense?"

"I'm pretty sure there was a double negative in there, but I understand the sentiment you were trying to convey."

"Good. You're the best, ergo—"

"Ergo?" Her smile grew at his antics.

"I can do Italian, too. Ergo, they're the best. Now, let's blow this pop stand and get outta here."

She chuckled, as he had intended, and the smile completed her face. "You are no longer making any sense to me."

"Even better." He laughed. He turned to head out but she hadn't finished yet.

"Thank you Booth." He gave her a questioning look. "I admit I was as unreasonably anxious about undergoing this particular form of treatment, but you stayed with me when I asked. And the crime got solved anyway."

Booth shrugged off her thanks, changing the subject to save himself embarrassment. "So, Fisher managed to get the vic ID'd and nail down the cause of death, and they got the perp. All without you being there? Whaddayaknow? He leaned into her face, his smile smug. "You've got to admit Bones, no-one's indispensable."

Brennan returned his look steadily, a vulnerability she rarely let show forming her features. "Except you."

"What?" His laugh was self-conscious. "No way. I'm good, but I'm not that good."

"No, I mean it Booth. You are indispensable." She snuck her hand into the crook of his arm. "To me."

"Ah, Bones." Despite the prosaic delivery, Booth found a lump forming in his throat. "It goes both ways, you know."

"No. I don't know. What do you mean?"

"It means . . . that you're pretty indispensable to me too." He smiled down at her. "C'mon, let's go home."

The turned and walked out together into the night, now lit by a cloudless sky magically full of stars.

"Happy Christmas, Bones."

"Happy Christmas, Booth."


End file.
